Disclaimer: Characters belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama
Spoilers: Everything through the 150's and Gregory's "master plan"
Summary: It had been quite awhile since she was forced to eavesdrop on her parents. (Part III of the "Master Plan" series)

Caitlin slowly closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. The curtains were open, filling her room with silver moonlight and shadows. Despite the nauseous feeling ebbing through her, a small smile came to her face. Her hands fluttered to her stomach, resting comfortably. Her eyes turned up to the large mirror in the corner of her room and she watched her reflection critically. She turned to the side, smoothing the fabric of her blouse over her stomach.

Nope, you couldn't tell.

The wall separating her room and her brother's vibrated from his music. She glanced over, the pulsing rhythm doing little to relieve her nerves. "Sean and his dead rappers," she murmured to herself, rubbing a circle on her stomach.

And I just love your flashy ways
Guess that's why they broke and you're so paid

She frowned, slowly moving closer to the polished glass as the bass thumped. It seemed odd, she thought. She could feel the changes in her body, but she couldn't see them. Not yet, anyway. Her stomach was still flat, though it often felt like a raging hurricane was churning inside it. Her jeans couldn't close anymore and, to her odd amusement, her cleavage deepened to a near obscene level. Cole didn't seem to mind that though. She nodded at her reflection, realizing the inevitable. Her body was growing out of control and she needed new clothes to contain it. "You know," she said softly, gently rubbing her stomach, "for something as tiny as a button, you certainly are causing a lot of trouble."

Button.

Button.

What an adorable nickname.

Cole was fond of calling the baby "Peanut", but certainly she could have her own term of endearment for her baby. After all, only her father called her "Princess". Her lips tightened to a thin line for a brief moment as her eyes narrowed. Did her mother ever call her anything other than "Darling" or "Caity"? Darling shouldn't count. She called everyone Darling. No matter, Button would work for her own child.

And, her baby would be as cute as a button.

Slowly, she pulled her shirt up and off. A moment later, she kicked off her khaki pants and turned back to the mirror. There. If she looked at her stomach long enough, she could just make out a slight swelling. Barely. Not really. She giggled, resting her palm against her bare stomach. "Don't worry. I know you're there, Button."

A cool breeze danced in through the open windows and goose pimples rose on her exposed flesh. Cole laughed the first time he walked in on her doing this, standing in just her bra and panties and gazing at her reflection. Be careful, Narcissus, he teased. He didn't understand though, she thought to herself. Their baby was inside her, changing her body. He only got to watch. A mere witness.

She turned, looking at her reflection from the other side. How long would it take until Button's presence was known to the world? She thought about her mother, who was already starting to show. She's not much further along than me, she though, smiling deliciously. She couldn't wait until she looked pregnant. She couldn't wait until she could feel Button moving in her.

It was all she could think about.

A memory whispered and she closed her eyes, surrendering to it. She was a child, kneeling next to her mother on the bed, her small hands pressed to her mother's swollen stomach. And, her mother laughed, the sound waltzing on the air.

She opened her eyes slowly, her hands still resting on her stomach. Her mother had to stay in bed a lot when she was pregnant with Sean, she remembered. Knowing now about the miscarriage, Caitlin understood how scared her mother must have been. "She wasn't that much older than me," she whispered, doing the math in her head. She looked back into the mirror, her blue eyes bright as she nodded. "You and I are going to take it easy, Button. Lots of rest and healthy eating. We're both going to be fine."

Pounding on a door.

Her father shouting.

The volume of Sean's music dropping considerably.

"Thank you, Daddy," she whispered. The calming sound of the waves filled the silence and she sighed. Her father. There was no way he would be happy with this news. Ever. Well...maybe not until he saw Button and became completely enchanted with her. And then, the fact that Cole was her father wouldn't...wouldn't... It would matter, she thought glumly to herself. It would always matter to her father.

She shuddered and raised a trembling hand to her mouth. Thank goodness for her mother's advice. It was right not to rush and tell her father about the baby. About Button. Her mother would help her figure out how to break the news gently. "At least I've got Mom on my side, Button," she said, looking back at the mirror. "She'll help me. Help us. She knows how Daddy can be." With a sigh, she explained, "We weren't always on the same side. But we are now."

It wouldn't be that way with her and Button. It just wouldn't. They would always be close. They would always understand each other. Her daughter wouldn't resent her the way she resented her own mother for several years. But, it didn't start out that way, did it? She shook her head and reached for the music box on the end table next to her bed. "Mom got this for me," she whispered, winding the knob on the bottom before opening the lid. A delicate melody drifted out, beautiful and sad at the same time.

It always reminded her of her mother.

She never told her mother that was the reason why she picked this music box.

Her mother bought it for her years ago when they were in San Francisco for the weekend. Just the two of them. She shivered, remembering how excited she was to get dressed up with her mother to go to the ballet. How proud she was to sit next to her in their box at the opera house. How she flinched and squeezed her hand the first time Rothbart bounded out from the wings. How they stayed up late when they got back to the hotel, dancing around the suite pretending to be ballerinas. How she giggled, watching her mother take a long sip of wine while attempting to plie. How it was the best time she had ever spent with her mother.

"Gregory, please!"

Caitlin's head flew to the window as her mother's voiced echoed in the night air. She walked over to the window as she heard her father's annoyed reply, "We can not keep going over this!" She cocked her head, confused. She crouched low and kneeled, leaning her arms against the windowsill. It had been quite awhile since she was forced to eavesdrop on her parents. Things had been going so incredibly well between them lately. What were they arguing about? What could they possibly still have to argue about?

She peered down to the patio and was able to make out her parents in the dim glow of the garden lights. Her father was sitting on the lounge chair, hunched over his knees. Her mother stood before him, her hands on her hips. "And, why not?" she heard her mother retort. A gust of wind rustled the palm frond and sucked up the rest of her mother's reply. Instead, she only watched as her father stood slowly and reached for her mother. She pushed his hands away and turned her back on him.

With a quiet gasp, she watched her father wrap his arms around her mother. He hugged her to him, his chest against her back. Whatever he said to her, she couldn't hear. What she could do was see. In silence, she watched her mother raise her hands to her face as her father brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. "No!" she heard her mother cry as she slipped out of his embrace, stalking into the house and out of view.

"Liv!" he called out as he followed her, vanishing a moment later.

Caitlin stood and slowly backed away from the window, the strains of the music box still flowing around her. She closed her eyes, hearing her mother's feet on the stairs and in the hall. A moment later, the door to the master bedroom slammed shut. She exhaled deeply, gently rubbing her stomach as she heard her father's feet several seconds later. The master bedroom door closed quietly behind him, just in time to cut off her mother's fury.

The music box began to slow and she reached out, quickly winding it up some. A moment later, she found herself wishing for Sean's rap music. Something. Anything to drown out the muffled cadence of their quarrel. "Don't worry, Button," she said softly, turning out her feet. "They'll stop soon. They always do." She exhaled deeply as her heels touched and she held out her curled arms before her. "Un," she whispered.

The routine of her childhood dance classes came back to her. How often had she gone through the ballet positions, surrendering to their comforting isolation while her parents raged around her? Too many times to count. She moved her feet apart and gently stretched out her arms. "Deux."

"I can't do it, Gregory! I can't!"

She closed her eyes and crossed one foot in front of the other as she curled in her right arm. "Trois."

"I will help you through it! Trust me, Liv! Do you trust me?"

Her feet slipped into fourth as she slowly raised her right arm over her head. "Quatre."

She moved her right foot in front of her left as she raised her arms over her head in a perfect oval. "Cinq," she breathed, opening her eyes slowly. A sad smile came to her face as she gently lowered her arms and straightened her feet. "Daddy doesn't understand how afraid Mom is," she whispered, resting her palm on her stomach. "But, I do. And, I'm going to be there for her. We both will, won't we, Button?"

But, there was no response.

Only the melancholic trill of the music box in the calm moonlight.

THE END.

A/N: This may be the third story in the series, but I see it as taking place before the events of "An Enigma" and "The Comfort of Walnut Cake". Also, Caitlin hears The Notorious B.I.G.'s "Hypnotize" and Chopin's "Nocturne in E-flat Major".